I finally claimed my seat on the planing machine after squeezing through what seemed like
millions of passengers. All of he various cultures and races surrounded me in an array
of scents and colors. I settled into my seat and the persist fight with my family was on
replay in my beware. You cant! screamed by brother, while slamming his fist on the
wooden kitchen table causing a particular earthquake. His bright blue eyes flashing with
anger. I readily glanced at my mother, hoping to see some sort of positivity, or even off
eagerness. I found a blank expression instead, her testify light blue eyes vacant, her
lightly freckled human face seemed to have paled in mere minutes. I never apprehension me wanting
to meet my own father would be much(prenominal) a horrific ordeal. I tried to calm the seat and
control my brother, Anthony, handsome and twenty.
Are you not curious where you flap your good looks from bro? I drawled, he was not
impressed. I recognise there would be no reckoning with them so I slowly pushed my
chair away from the table and left them to savor in the news. The News that I, twenty
year old Erika Jakic cute to travel to Croatia to meet her biological father.
I wish I
had a mental pause justton to stop the chaos but I also knew the only other place my
mind would take me would be the thoughts on my father and what was soon to come.
What does he look like? Should I ask him why he has never sent his children a Birthday
or Christmas control panel? I mean, we are twins, only one birth bodyguard to remember! Will he hug
me? What do I call him? I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, immediately reproof
myself for my travel fashion sense. My ripped jeans were just a bit besides low, and my
black T shirt too short. The inch of superfluous back that was exposed to the red polyester
chairs was beginning to itch. I detested to move, not wanting to disturb the highly fidgety
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